


Petrichor

by MelissaGT



Series: A Beautiful Tragedy [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), LLF Comment Project, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelissaGT/pseuds/MelissaGT
Summary: For three hundred years, Lord Scourge, the Emperor's Wrath, had suffered with a curse placed upon him by his Master. A curse that kept him alive, locked in a frozen state...able to move and to function, but unable to truly live. He'd been a walking husk of a man. A man who was eternally stuck, unable to move forward. Unable to taste, touch, smell...unable to feel the skin of another against his own.And for three hundred years he'd waited for her. She was a Jedi, the one who was destined to stop the Sith Emperor from destroying all life as they knew it. At least, that was what they'd both believed when Raz had ended Vitiate on Dromund Kaas nearly seven years ago. Scourge had had a vision of her cutting him down, and it had played true. They had finished their task, and all they had left was each other.A hollow man and a fallen Jedi.





	Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> This work is the result of a Tumblr prompt from the lovely tishinada, who wanted a love scene for Scourge and Raz, my Jedi Knight. I was more than happy to comply, because I love this pairing oh so very much.
> 
> It should be noted that this work is connected to my fic, "Not Afraid Anymore". As Scourge and Raz both have a part in that story, I didn't want to remove them from it entirely. How they act, and what they talk about is going to be affected by what is going on with the other main characters. As such, this scene is a slice taken from further along in the timeline, shown from their perspective. Obviously, no spoilers, but readers will get a bit of a taste of what is to come. 
> 
> Trigger warning for mutually consensual rough sex. Scourge is a big, badass Sith, folks. There's no way a lady is not going to be walking funny after a romp with him. ;)

 

Juran Mountains, Alderaan – Razi'ilziveri

_For three hundred years, Lord Scourge, the Emperor's Wrath, had suffered with a curse placed upon him by his Master. A curse that kept him alive, locked in a frozen state...able to move and to function, but unable to truly live. He'd been a walking husk of a man. A man who was eternally stuck, unable to move forward. Unable to taste, touch, smell...unable to feel the skin of another against his own._

_And for three hundred years he'd waited for her. She was a Jedi, the one who was destined to stop the Sith Emperor from destroying all life as they knew it. At least, that was what they'd both believed when Raz ended Vitiate on Dromund Kaas nearly seven years ago. Scourge had had a vision of her cutting him down, and it had played true. They had finished their task, and all they had left was each other._

_A hollow man and a fallen Jedi._

_Raz had become disillusioned with the Order she'd given her life over to. She'd been pushed aside and treated with mistrust and even open aggression in some cases, for doing the very things she'd been asked to do. And Scourge was still as stuck as ever. She loved him, she knew that much. The day she turned her back on the Order was the day she made a vow that she would stop at nothing to see him freed._

_But then came war. Another war. Always war. She was called, by the Order that had forsaken her, and she answered. She fought for the Republic again, with Scourge ever at her side. He had no reason to stay, save for one. He loved her right back._

_After only a year, the Republic rolled over for the Eternal Empire, crushed under the heel of a new emperor. The selfish part of her might have been happy – she no longer had to fight, and she could resume her quest to find a cure for Scourge. But the other part, the part that would always be Jedi, railed at the thought of so many forced to live under the yoke of the tyrant they were now beholden to._

_And that was when she'd heard from Theron. He'd offered her a chance to fight again, for something worth fighting for. Someone worth fighting for. And with it, the promise of aid for the man she loved._

\---------------

Fighting against the oncoming strings of consciousness, Razi'ilziveri rolled to one side, stretching her arms out against the mattress in front of her. Adding in a healthy yawn, she cracked a single lazy eye open to find that she'd slept clean through the afternoon into evening. She opened the other eye, letting them both come to focus on the empty space on the other side of the bed. She was alone. At some point, Scourge must have gotten up, leaving her to get some much needed shuteye.

Sweeping her lekku out of the way, Raz rolled onto her back again, studying the paneling and polished wooden beams on the ceiling above her. She watched the glittering motes of dust drift and float through the air, lit like an infinite number of shimmering stars by the last dregs of the setting sun as it slanted throughout the room. All was quiet in her own little universe, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique mechanical chrono on the mantle, coupled with the distant rumbles of an oncoming storm. She could almost smell the rain on the light breeze that ruffled the sheets around her, reminding her that Scourge had left the overly large transparisteel doors open to the elements before they'd fallen asleep.

Raz couldn't remember ever having been so happy. And tired. But in a good way. She looked up at those wooden beams with an impish grin that could rival the most devious of tooka-cats that had certainly eaten the nuna. Or all of the nunas. They'd done it. They'd finally done it. Scourge had been freed. And in the days since their success, he'd been relentless. Insatiable even. Not that she could blame him. She'd waited for him for nearly eight years. That was bad enough. She couldn't imagine what he'd gone through. 

Sure, over the years he'd tried to attend to her very real needs as best he could, but it had more often than not ended in frustration on his part. He'd invariably try to push her away, urging her to not waste her time on him, and then he'd grow angry when she didn't listen. And yes, there may have been a few times where the 'benefits' portion of her friendship with Theron had been revisited _,_ so to speak _._ But that was before they'd found the Commander, before they'd known for sure that she was even still alive, and before they'd realized that the possibility of curing Scourge was an actual reality. There were no strings - they both knew their hearts belonged elsewhere. But finding a release here or there with someone who could be completely trusted had helped both of them through some pretty dark times. 

She stretched again, this time extending her extremities straight out towards the four corners of the bed. Letting out a delighted little mewl of contentment as the stretch worked through to her arms and legs and down into her fingers and toes, she twisted her torso to the side, releasing the tightness that had formed in her back around a series of wonderfully audible pops of the spine. Throughout her stretching exercises, she took comfort in the dulled ache she could feel deep in her belly, and when she sat up, she became all too aware of the bruises she'd earned over the past few days, most of them in the shape of very large fingers. She wore the light purple marks with pride, criss-crossed all over her hips, her thighs, her backside, as well as other places. It was all rather quite delicious. She'd waited for so long to feel the way she did right at that very moment in time. To finally have the evidence of their passions written across her hide in the most literal of ways.

Determined to find out where Scourge had run off to, she slid out of the inviting warmth of the bed and shivered, immediately making her way over to the sliding transparisteel door to close off the room from the cool evening air. It may have been the middle of spring on Alderaan, but the nights were still on the colder side of things, and Raz hated being cold. Looking out over the horizon into the gloaming darkness, she rubbed her hands over her upper arms, bracing herself against the onslaught of gooseflesh that pricked up across her pale skin. A storm was definitely on its way. The distant rumbles of thunder were growing nearer, and big round drops of rain began to fall against the windows and deck furniture just outside, leaving distinct splat marks wherever they connected before sliding down towards the wooden decking.

She cast her gaze about for the long-forgotten robe she'd tossed somewhere when Scourge had thrown her onto the giant four-poster several hours earlier. There was just enough light left locate it, flung over a chair in a corner, as well as a pair of underwear that were thankfully still intact. She really had to teach that large red Sith of hers that they came off and didn't need to be ripped off. Once in a while was fine...hot even, but he'd shredded his way through at least five pair so far. And some pants. And some shirts. Then there was the broken settee in the far corner of the room. And the headboard that belonged to the elaborately carved wooden bed frame. If they'd been renting, they most certainly would not have gotten their deposit back. The Commander and Theron were going to be so pissed.

Shaking her head in disbelief at the tumultuous mess they'd made of the master bedroom, Raz slipped on the underwear and threw the knitted black robe over her shoulders, lacing it to just below her breasts. She laughed to herself, wondering what the point of the garment was. The fabric was practically see-through, it hardly kept her warm, and it only laced down so far. The Commander had given it to her, telling her to help herself to the closet full of brand new clothing that had been stocked some time before. The human Sith was a bit shorter and smaller, so most of the clothing was tighter than intended on Raz's larger, more muscled frame, but it wasn't like they were actually staying on for any length of time anyways.

The Commander had warned her well ahead of time that none of the men's clothing kept at the house would fit Scourge, so upon landing, she'd convinced Theron to take Toovee into the nearby settlement to pick up provisions, as well as a few things for the big n' tall Sith Lord. The spy had wanted no part of it, and he'd called almost immediately for input, but he was the only one who could go. The Commander's face was recognizable pretty much everywhere now, and Raz had trouble staying low-key anywhere, even before the Alliance. (Sith tattoos could be such a drag at times.) It couldn't get out that they were there, or they'd risk calling down the fury of the Star Fortress or worse, attract the attention of Emperor Arcann and his Eternal Fleet. The Emperor had a hard-on for their leader something fierce, and Raz had an inkling that it was far more complicated than his already ultra-weird daddy issues.

Padding barefoot over the wide wooden floorboards, Raz made her way across the room towards the door. She let her eyes fall upon the mess one more time, failing to stifle the perhaps-a-little-too-girlish giggle that escaped her lips. She was quite sure that she and Scourge hadn't been the first to turn that room into what could have passed as a crime scene, and she doubted they'd be the last.

Just down a short hallway, she found herself standing at a balcony that looked over the open sitting area below. A sitting area that lacked a distinctly red, most likely naked Sith Lord. Where the kriff was he?

She did have to admit it though, the house was stunningly beautiful, and the last place she ever expected a Sith, or a pirate, or a spy for that matter, to call home. Black leather, vinyl, lots of red, maybe some sharp objects and a view of a darkened city skyline, absolutely. But not the floor-to-ceiling polished woodwork, the airy rafters, and the warm stone fireplace she saw before her, not to mention the lavish, earth-toned rugs topped with furniture that just begged to be curled up into with a blanket and a holonovel. And most certainly not the giant, wall-sized window with an ostentatiously unbroken view of the snow-capped Juran Mountains. And pine trees. Pine trees everywhere. As far as the eye could see. It was a literal vacation poster.

And for someone who rarely was able to enjoy any sort of down-time, it was also a refuge, an escape. It showed a side of the Commander that so very few ever got to see. Even so, the Sith had seemed sad being there. She'd wanted nothing to do with the master bedroom, and had offered it up to Raz and Scourge immediately. The house was hers, theirs she supposed, but technically, it belonged to someone they'd lost along the way.

The first night they'd stayed there, just the four of them, Raz had overheard her and Theron talking about Andronikos again, and how being there, on Alderaan and in that house, brought all of the pain of the pirate's absence fresh to the surface, like rubbing salt in an open wound that would never heal. Then she'd heard Theron promise to find the man, that he'd never give up looking until they could bring him home. It all sounded very much like something he'd said to her many times before. Things had gone quiet after that, and Raz had tried not to notice the very obvious lack of certain crime-scene-in-the-making noises that typically drove everybody to avoid going anywhere near the couple during their 'alone' time.

The next morning, they'd left to meet a Jedi contact, which was probably for the best. Raz greatly suspected that Theron was doing everything he could to keep the Commander as busy as possible, and the Star Fortress floating above the planet like a bloated tick on the back of an akk dog would have been a very welcome distraction. 

Raz felt guilty overhearing that conversation. Theron and the Commander tried to keep the intricacies of their relationship private. Everyone knew they were together, it was pretty obvious when they started sharing quarters on Odessen and everywhere else, but only a small handful, the original core founders of the Alliance, knew about Andronikos. They didn't need the rumor mill to start grinding about that, not while the man was still missing. Theron blamed himself, of course. He always blamed himself, because that was who he was. But all it took was one look at that fiery little Sith to know that she placed no blame, harbored no resentment towards him. She loved that damned spy. It was plain as day. Raz could only hope that someday Theron would realize that and lose the doubts he always seemed to carry around like a weight around his neck.

Hearing someone at the top of the stairs, the Commander's droid marched into the sitting area from his post in the kitchen. Ever diligent, that one. “Mistress Ziveri, please, is there anything I may get for you?”

“No...no thanks, Toovee.” Raz trotted down the stairs, one creak at a time, and when she reached the bottom, she leaned forward until she could see around the corner into the kitchen, half-expecting to find Scourge sitting at the counter, getting into Theron's cereal again. Really, who would have thought that the Big Bad Sith had a thing for kiddie cereal? It came as no surprise that her thirty-five year old man-child of a best friend did, but surely one so _depraved_ and _evil_ as the former Emperor's Wrath had to eat small puppies or something for breakfast, or an evening snack.

The droid fidgeted before her, as best as one could expect a droid to fidget, waiting for an order or perhaps wondering what she was looking at.

“Actually, have you seen Lord Scourge?”

“Yes, mistress. Master Scourge went out onto the terrace some time ago. Shall I...shall I inform him that you wish to see him?” The droid's hesitation clearly had a 'please say no' tone to it, and it brought a tug of a grin to Raz's lips. Toovee was afraid of his own shadow, even though she'd never really seen any reason for him to act that way. Perhaps that was just how they programmed their droids in the Empire.

She turned her head towards the wall-sized window directly off the sitting area, rubbing her hands over her arms again at the thought of going outside. Rainstorms were common for a spring evening, but even so, she didn't relish the idea of getting wet. “Oh, no...there's no need. I could use some fresh air,” she chuckled, her jest completely lost on the mechanical servant.

“Very well, mistress. Do be sure to bundle up if you are going out of doors. There is something of a storm coming in.”

“Thanks, Toovee.” Leaving the droid to his own mutterings about nobody ever listening to his advice and whatever the hell else he did, she navigated the obstacle course of inviting furniture and area rugs to reach the sliding door that lead out onto the house's large outdoor terrace. Nights on Alderaan were always dark, but there was still enough twilight, coupled with the house lights behind her to be able to see across the rain-slicked flagstones and locate what, or who, she was looking for.

She stood for a moment, hand gripped around the door handle, just watching. The Pureblood stood alone in the quickly oncoming darkness, looking out over the treeline. Or perhaps he wasn't really looking at anything. His head was tilted up towards the sky, almost in a position of reverence, and he braced himself against the stonework that served as a railing with his arms spread out to either side in front of him. And, as she had suspected, no clothes.

Apparently, there had been a point in time when Scourge had enjoyed the concept of clothing and fashion, however over the years he'd been numbed to the idea, and had adopted a rather simplistic view on the matter. Armor. Or Naked. There was nothing in-between. It was simply a matter of practicality. What would have been the point when he couldn't have been made more comfortable by wearing anything different?

But, things most certainly were different now, and Raz couldn't help the soft smile that rolled over her features as she stood there watching the man she loved enjoy the sensation of the rain falling across his skin. Clothes could come later.

She almost wasn't sure she even wanted to interrupt him, but after a few moments, she tugged at the door handle, sliding the transparisteel just enough to slip out into the darkness with him. The wet flagstones were cold against her feet and she found herself almost up on her tip-toes to avoid getting wet, which was pretty silly considering she was most definitely getting wet. She could feel the fat drops of rain patting against her bared forehead, soaking through the loose knit of her robe. Shivering, she instinctively curled her lekku around her neck in an effort to brace herself against the chill in the air, thanking the stars that any semblance of a breeze had died out. It appeared that they were going to miss the worst of the storm afterall.

As she drew closer to her intended target, Raz watched the droplets of water splash over his wide shoulders, only to run in glittering rivulets down the heavily defined muscles of his back. Those that fell between his shoulder blades caught on the sharp, bony ridges of his spine, a feature carried by most members of his species, to some extent. Once there, they collected into larger drips before tumbling under their own weight down the curved path towards his backside.

Everything about that man's body was like appreciating a finely chiseled piece of art in a museum.

Raz knew that Scourge was fully aware of her presence, and her eyes didn't miss the ever so slight quirk of his shoulders when she lifted a hand to the base of his neck. She slid her fingertips lower, running them lightly back and forth over the ridges of his spine, noting how her pale skin took on an almost blue tone in the dim light, standing out rather starkly against the deepened red of his hide. 

“Aren't you cold?” she asked, keeping her voice low so as not to completely ruin the peaceful silence between them.

“Yes.” His response was clearly not meant to be taken with a negative connotation. He was cold, but that was entirely the point.

Raz let her fingertips drift down and away from his side so that she could turn to face him, leaning her back against the low wall he stood in front of. She looked up at his head towering above her, and saw that his eyes were closed, his expression quite relaxed as he welcomed each and every splash of water that connected with the hardened planes and angles of his face.

Most would likely not consider the features of a Sith Pureblood as being attractive. Surely not in the same way members of her own species were held in high regard for their inherent beauty, many times being kept as slaves or resorting to the use of their physical gifts to get by in life. Soft. Exotic. Curvy. Those were words to describe a Twi'lek. There was nothing soft about Lord Scourge. Severe. Sharp. Hard. Fierce, maybe. But even so, he was beautiful. Regal. Majestic. And very handsome in his own way, at least to her.

Shrouded with him in the muffled silence of the falling rain, she watched captivated as the shimmering droplets caught in his lashes, ran down over the dips and ridges of his cheeks, dripped from the silver rings at his brow. He cocked his head toward her, and the slight movement caused a virtual symphony of shining beads to fall from the tips of the bone-like spurs along his jawline and chin, or from the two long tendrils at either side of his mouth, both weighted down by the ornate silver jewelry they bore. To be described, it all sounded very...alien, but in reality, all of the sharp edges of his jaw made up what could have been looked upon as a beard, of sorts, if he had any hair.

“I haven't felt rain on my skin in over three hundred years. It makes me long for Dromund Kaas.”

“ _Tu'ak, Moqhoit,”_ she responded quietly, uncoiling her lekku to fall over her shoulders in an attempt to spread some of their warmth. The knit of the robe had completely soaked through by that point, and she was beginning to wonder if she'd have felt a bit warmer if she lost it altogether. “You can go anywhere you wish.”

A red eye cracked open at the sound of his true name falling from her lips, and when he saw her rubbing at her forearms, he took a step in her direction, encircling her much smaller frame within the span of his arms as they rested on the rough stone ledge behind her.

She could already feel the warmth from his body start to reach her, but now all she could see in front of her was a solid view of his wide chest, and the ridges that ran down his breastbone in the same fashion as they did at his back. Raising her hands to his shoulders, she stood up on her tip-toes, giving him cue to lift her up and set her onto the ledge in front of him, bringing her to almost but not quite eye-level. Much better.

“I have no wish to be parted from you,” he stated, as if it was the most obvious of facts in the galaxy. Moving forward to stand between her knees, he looked upon her with a level of scrutiny that always seemed to fall just a little to the left of too difficult to read. He ran a hand lightly down the length of her tchin, the corner of his mouth tugging ever so slightly at the sight of her eyes fluttering closed in reaction to his touch. “Your place is here.”

Raz found herself lost in thought at the meaning of his statement, and she tilted her head back so that she could look straight into his red gaze. “You sound so certain of it.”

“For hundreds of years I let the Force guide my loyalties,” he began, his haughty Kaasian accent stronger than ever. “And it lead me to you. Perhaps it is your turn to do the same.” Finished with its journey at the tip of her tchin, his hand fell to rest over her own at the top of her thigh.

She laughed, revealing her doubts with a shivering shrug of her shoulders. “Because the Force has absolutely never lead us astray. Ever.” Raz had never really bought into the whole concept of the Force guiding her destiny. But Scourge had always been convinced, and because he never doubted her, not even once, and she trusted him with her life, she'd gone along with it.

His gaze was unwavering, and the almost imperceptible narrowing of the eye as she laughed betrayed his displeasure, or perhaps annoyance, at her frivolity. Or maybe he really was amused underneath that perfect sabacc-face and he was suddenly going to pitch her over his shoulder and haul her off somewhere and have his way with her. It was tough to say.

Scourge had always regarded her, and everyone else for that matter, with what most would consider to be an overbearingly smug sense of detached superiority, and it had taken her a time to realize that that was just who he was, at least on the surface. But underneath, he was a tempest.

How the Sith put up with her, befriended her, wanted her...loved her, was a question for the ages.

“Even Sith know that visions given to us by the Force are not always as they seem. I saw you strike down the Emperor. You did so.”

“But that wasn't the Emperor.”

“It was. In a sense.”

She understood what he was trying to say. That even though she hadn't destroyed the Emperor, they were now in a position to aid someone who could. Even so, it was a big leap to take. Theron was asking her to place a lot of trust on the shoulders of one person, and to say that her best friend's opinion might have been slightly biased was putting it mildly.

“Do you trust her?”

“Do you?” he asked, squeezing his hand lightly over hers. It was apparent that he saw their path laid before them, and was hoping she would come to the same conclusion.

“When Theron told me that she had this sense of...gravity about her, I wasn't sure what he meant. But now I do.” It wasn't much of an answer, but it was the truth. In their time spent with the Alliance, they'd seen Jedi and Sith alike flock to the banners of the woman who had been known as Darth Nox. Powerful and influential people from all sides of the galaxy, even from within the Eternal Empire itself.

She supposed then that her path had been set.

Letting out a long sigh, she felt a chill run through her, and her lavender eyes connected again with his. She felt his other hand begin to pull at the laces holding the rain-soaked robe closed over her breasts. She was freezing, but didn't entirely care anymore, not with the way Scourge was looking at her right at that moment.

“He loves her. More than anything,” she admitted, finding herself lost in his gaze and quite unsure if she was still talking about Theron and the Commander.

“Anyone with eyes can see that.” Finished with the laces, Scourge parted one side of the soggy material and ran the hand up her breastbone to the hollow of her neck, applying gentle pressure to push her to recline backwards. “He wears his emotions too loosely, and he allows his fears to control him. It is a weakness.”

It was an observation, a blunt, honest, and sadly true observation. It would never cease to amaze her how Scourge could talk about anything, even when his mind was clearly thinking about something entirely different. Once that Sith had his heart, or head, or perhaps something else, set upon a specific goal, there was little that could dissuade him.

“He's afraid of what it means...that a part of him is relieved Revel is gone,” she responded, leaning back on the heels of her hands when she felt the pressure at her collarbone increase. Really, she was all too happy to comply, but she couldn't help the stab of concern that cropped up for her friend.

The sensation of his large, warm hands on her torso served as a complete distraction, however. Her mind began to wander, and she nibbled on the side of her lower lip, allowing her eyes to flutter closed once again as she inclined her head towards the sky. She felt him push the robe open, slide the material free of her lekku, shifting it up over her shoulders, down her arms, finally letting it fall to pool around her wrists.

“They were rivals, were they not?” he questioned, the silky masculine timbre of his voice bringing her attention back to present. “The man is most likely dead...”

“Yes and no," she chuckled. It was all so simple to him. Scourge didn't get jealous, and he wasn't one to be so insecure and possessive that every passing glance was viewed as a threat. Theron wasn't a threat. He was Force-blind, and unworthy of concern. Well, now that just made him sound like a snob. So be it. She'd fallen in love with a Sith. A Sith who had spent three hundred years sowing fear into the hearts of those throughout the Empire. In reality, there were very few actual threats to the former Emperor's Wrath. And that was the way he liked it. Simply existing was generally enough to ensure that most, if not all, respected his boundaries. However, if push were to come to shove...

"Not everyone carries such a literal definition of _mine_ , _yours_ , and _ours_ , _veleja'ti_.” The last word came out as a whisper, and she was immediately rewarded with the sight of those crimson, predatory eyes of his bearing down on her with a look of pure darkened hunger. The rest of his expression may have remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed everything. They stole away any memories of having been cold, replaced by an entirely different sensation as his hands continued to roam over her arms, her sides, her shoulders...

She watched with heavy-lidded interest as he ran his hands over her thighs, gently yet firmly forcing her legs further apart.

“Say it...,” he uttered. It was simple and it was direct, and even though the softened words could have easily become lost amidst the sounds of the rain pattering down around them, it was still an order. There was no other way for him. He was towering over her, and she leaned back further, her head lolling against her shoulder as a pair of knuckles slowly trailed up the inside of the left thigh until they reached the scalloped edge of her underwear.

And there they stopped, waiting for her to respond, to say the words he wanted to hear.

She could feel his knuckles stroking at her from the outside of the rather see-through lace undergarment, and it was enough to make her want nothing more than to lay back and accept whatever he wanted to give. Dealer's choice. But, she forced herself to sit up, bringing her lips to brush against his ear.

“ _Sua'ut nu tu'iea, Moqhoit,"_ she breathed, her voice low and throaty, almost a purr. She meant every word of it - she was his in every way, and she couldn't have been happier about it.

As soon as the admission fell from her lips, his shoulders gave a quick jerk, and the thin barrier separating them was no more, leaving the rest of the material to hang loosely around her hips. He wrapped a hand around her neck, his fingers digging in at the base of her lekku, and he forced her head back so that he could bring his lips to hers, kissing her with a ferocity that was just barely contained under the surface. Teeth, tongue, tendril...he tasted of the spring rain, of fire and ice, an ageless storm that was unequivocally Scourge in every way. He was both hot and cold at the same time, hard and soft, and the metal jewelry he wore was cool to the touch as it slipped and slid against her jaw with each movement of his mouth over hers.

His body was practically vibrating with tension, a coiled spring ready to snap, and it threatened to pull her under, carry her away to the depths as sure as a riptide in the ocean.

She allowed him to guide her down to the stonework, ran her hands over his as they slid down her sides to her hips, gripping, dragging her roughly forward toward the very edge, and there was no hesitation as he moved to meet her, seating himself deep inside of her from one breath to the next. There was no drawn out foreplay, no games...those simple words had turned him into a force of nature.

Stretched to the breaking point, she hissed through her teeth at the exquisite pain of having him fill her so completely. To be thoroughly possessed in such a way...it was all so very primal, and it showed in his eyes. She'd told him that she was his, and he knew it, owned it. The crimson gaze that held her captive spoke volumes, and right then, he wanted to tear her apart at the seams. It drove her insane, and it was exactly what she wanted.

Every move he made, or lack thereof, was precise, calculated. He remained stilled inside of her, leaving her to the sensation of the droplets of water drumming a beat against her torso as she laid herself bare before him. Eyes sliding shut, breath already ragged, she squeezed herself around him, feeling his hands run from her hips up to her stomach, between her breasts, over both lek...back to her neck to tilt her chin to the sky, and still he didn't move. The simple act of forcing her body to stretch around him, adjusting to every inch, every ridge, was enough to push her at lightning speed right to the edge. She was working herself into a frenzy and he hadn't even done anything.

The dulled pain deep in her belly blended seamlessly with a ball of pressure that was beginning to unfurl, tempting her with thoughts of release, of white light and orgasmic bliss. Her legs took on a mind of their own, and they came up to wrap around his waist, attempting to force some movement out of him, or at least grind herself into him. The pressure became unbearable, and when his hands went back to her hips and slowly pulled her even tighter against him, pushing himself up against that delectable aching spot right at the base of her spine, she came undone. Pleasure and pain, there was no beginning or end, it all ran together, one serving to enhance the other, and Scourge knew how to use both like a master.

Not wasting any time, he bent over her and scooped her up, a pathetic, floppy sack of oblivion that just so happened to resemble the general shape of a Twi'lek. He gripped her by the ass, holding her to him because her legs just didn't seem to want to obey any semblance of a command. She was barely of mind enough to feel the pressure of a wall against her back, to feel him shift his hold on her, supporting her from underneath because she was of absolutely no help in holding herself up, and she barely registered the sensation of his thumbs digging into the apex of either thigh, forcing her legs wide apart. Her arms may have been wrapped around his neck, but she couldn't be sure that they were even attached anymore.

It took a few moments, but she was eventually able to gather enough of her senses, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that he'd carried her off to a corner of the terrace, right by the sliding door, where the house met with the walled ledge. 

The hands at her backside bit sharply into her flesh, and he withdrew himself, almost all of the way, leaving her quivering and quaking at the sudden absence. She could feel him pause right at her entrance, just past the soft inner folds of her sex, almost as if he was waiting for something, and a flicker of annoyance ran through her, only to be thrown away into the ether when he thrust himself forwards. Her head bounced back against the wall and her vision slid sideways from the sheer force of it, pushing the breath right out of her lungs. 

“ _Nulisja'ti, hyalut tu,”_ he said, his breath hot against the side of her throat, tickling at the cone of her ear. He backed off once again, and this time she bit back a moan as she spasmed with want. No matter which way he moved, the more carnal features of his species played her like an instrument from the inside, each ridged inch bringing her one more step closer to the brink.

He paused longer this time, and she began to fight against him, trying to force her legs closed against the thumbs that held her in their vice-like grip. She had to have it, needed it...was most certainly going to fall off the edges of the planet without it. She mewled in frustration, continuing her onslaught...grinding her hips forward, pushing her shoulders into the flagstones, writhing against him...pretty much anything her body could instinctively come up with to force some semblance of friction between them.

But, for all of her fighting, even digging into her reserves with the Force, it was for naught. He was most definitely the stronger of the two, and was without a doubt the one in charge...and just to prove that point, he dug his thumbs in deeper, making her want to close her legs even more. 

She saw the look in his eye, knew there would be no release until she gave in. Everything in life was a battlefield for the former Emperor's Wrath. Sex, love, war...all battles fought and won, even those three hundred years in the making. And in the end, when it was over, he always put her out of her sweet misery. Her judge, jury, and executioner.

When she finally relented, whimpering again with need around a bitten lip, she saw the tug of satisfaction at the corner of his mouth, felt him tense, readying himself almost like a predator setting back on its haunches before making a kill. He spoke again, the words muffled against the void of her own consciousness, then snapped his hips forward, shoving her backwards, making her cry out to the stars, the sky, the trees...everything. 

“ _Sefazoksh nun, wo’mielis ja’ti..."_

They slithered through the haze of her mind, their true meaning elusive until they finally reached her at the center of her own little cloud of existence...and then her world went sideways. 

Scourge had begun her tutelage in the Sith language shortly after he'd helped her escape from the Emperor's grasp, he'd said as a means to foster trust between them, to forge their relationship. Apparently she'd picked it up rather fast, even with all of the confusing inflections and grammatical quirks, but she was still a novice by most standards. She couldn't bring herself to be sure of what she thought she'd just heard. 

“Ar-...are you asking me to marry you?” Shot right back to reality, he had her full attention now, and her eyes were solidly focused on the raindrops falling into the puddles on the ground behind them. She may have tried to look him in the eye, but she wasn't entirely sure she had the strength for that, just in case she'd misunderstood him. 

“ _Yes..._ ” he responded, breathing his answer against her skin. Worrying softly at the flesh on the side of her neck, he pushed her against the wall even harder, and she sucked in a choking breath, feeling one of his hands move to her throat. She had no choice but to support some of her own weight on the ledge next to them.

All it took was one word, one three-letter word, and her world shattered around them, the scattered pieces ground into dust, left to wash away into the flagstones beneath their feet. 

After that, his passions became unbridled. The confession had set him free, and he wasn't holding himself back anymore, nor was he giving her any time to think (not that she had to). He rushed to meet her again and again, quite successfully sending her mind off into space somewhere to go floating through the abyss. What little breaths she could take were timed with each of his bone-deep thrusts, every single one sending her vision swimming, and she was vaguely aware that her lekku had hopelessly coiled themselves around the wrist and forearm that held her in place.  

One orgasm...two...twenty...there was no counting. They all blended together, ringing inside of her like a bell, until she was a solid, quivering mass begging for release. 

_“Bind yourself to me, Jidai.”_

That one was an order, at least that was what it sounded like. She couldn't be sure. Through the blurred fog, she heard the words, let them turn around in her head. It took entirely too long for her to form a complete sentence in her mind and what came out was a half-mumbled, half-sobbed observation that he was most definitely fighting dirty.

Of course he was fighting dirty. 

The fingers at her throat gave a light squeeze, and he shifted again, cupping both hands around her backside before slamming her back into the wall. He molded her to him, his strong arms driving her against him over and over to the point where she knew without a doubt that her insides were sure to come flying apart in the best of ways.

Rough stonework scratched and dug into her shoulder blades, cold and damp and altogether unpleasant. But even so, she was thankful for it. They were in this together, she and that wall. It had become her friend and ally. A lifeline giving her strength where she had none, for without it, she would have been nothing more than a steaming puddle of melted Twi'lek, left to collect and die inside a crater in the middle of a very primal battlefield.

She would have died happy, though. And with a smile on her face, a worthy sacrifice to her personal slice of Sith godhood. 

With Scourge there were no cries of pleasure, no grunts or growls. The only sign he would give that he was nearing his own peak was the heated pants felt against her neck, the tightening of the muscles in his shoulders. Which was more than fine. She didn't need to hear such things from him, and for one as powerful and self-contained as the former Emperor's Wrath, his silence only added to his intensity - it was downright hot. 

He caressed his head to hers, the sharpened points of his jaw and brows rubbing against her skin as he guided her chin to the sky, baring her throat for him. Teeth grazed a path over her windpipe and down, both a threat and a promise, but also a display of trust. It would be over soon.

There was no bringing her to the peak again. She'd been there, right at it, and going over the entire time. Every time he withdrew, she was left in tatters, only to see darkened stars at the other end. She wasn't sure if it was because he was always able to hit that one particular spot, or because of the way the unique anatomy of his species interacted with her own soft insides, or a combination of the two, but she'd never thought it would have been possible to be brought to such heights.

For half of a breath, there was a brief passing whisp of a thought, barely a glimmer, where she was curious if sex for him was any different, better or worse, than with his own species. It didn't last long though - it flew away, lost to the rain and to the sound of Scourge drawing in a sudden, almost pained rent of breath. She cradled his head to her shoulder, the only permission required, and he ground his hips against her one last time, sinking his sharp teeth into the meaty part at the base of her neck. A surprise, yet not a surprise. 

She choked back a gasp, a racking sob bitten off with her own teeth, not caring in the least when she felt the hot trickle of blood roll down over her scapula only to melt away with the rain. The pain was exquisite - it first peaked, pointed and clear, but then it settled, mixing, merging, threading with the finest chord of pleasure at knowing she'd been claimed in his own feral, Sithy way. It was the same pleasure she felt as he spasmed inside of her, signaling his own release, a gift she would never grow tired of receiving. They'd waited for so long, through years of failure and doubt, strife and prophesy. It was almost unreal to think it was finally over, that they had this wonderful new start together.

And he still wanted her. All of her. 

Perhaps he was of the same mind as he pulled her tightly against him, holding them both still as stone, locked together as one as they shuddered and came together, side by side. Or, perhaps all thought had simply been thrown out the window and he was operating solely on lust and instinct. Either way, she was, quite literally, caught between a rock and a hard place until he decided to release her. 

Seconds ticked by into minutes with them suspended together in time like that, and even after she'd worked through the last of her own aftershocks, he was still going. Every few seconds or so, she could feel him almost tremble, both inside and out. She was still getting used to the idea of sex leading up to something so intimate. Usually, when it was done, it was...quite done. Of course, the actual act _was_  (generally) intimate, yes, but there was no comparison. Sometimes there would be snuggling or maybe some spooning, but riding through another's peak that lasted whole minutes? Multiple minutes? That was the definition of intimacy. And apparently, that was how Purebloods did it. At least her Pureblood did, which was all she had to go on. 

But, she was right there with him, and she always would be. No matter how long his orgasms might take, lucky bastard. 

The ragged puffs of breath against her shoulder began to slow as she lazily massaged the tensed muscles at the back of his neck, giving him all the time he needed to come down off the ledge. She heard a muffled sigh, felt the pressure from his teeth disappear alltogether as he began to relax, his fires burning low. The tip of his nose ran up the curve of her neck to the cone of her ear, down her cheek, brushed over her lips. She was still held firmly up against the stone wall...his hands were still digging into her backside, but when he kissed her, it was slow, gentle. It was a kiss that befitted lovers, when two people cared for each other from the depths of their very being.

And it was in that time, caught up in each other's embrace, that he asked for an answer. A thread of doubt slipped into his voice, perhaps even fear, something she never thought she'd hear from one so solid and strong.

In the eight years he'd spent fighting at her side, nothing had ever been able to crack through that durasteel exterior of his, not the fall of the Sith Empire, most certainly not the fall of the Republic, not the constant (and infuriatingly frustrating) returns of the Sith Emperor...nothing. But there he was, laying it all on the line, the fear of her refusal cutting through his resolve like a knife through butter. 

“You never had to ask, _veleja'ti._ The answer is yes. It's always been yes.”

“Then I am yours. Every bit as much as you are mine.”

For what seemed like an eternity, they held each other's gaze, the cooled lavender eyes of a Jedi to the heated red eyes of a Sith. He hugged her close, the slightest hint of a smile crossing his features, and when she ran the tip of her nose up the side of his cheek, she felt him stir again from within.

"Already?" she giggled.

"Are you really surprised?..." He brushed his forehead against hers and laughed, a soft chuckle that would have been otherwise so easy to miss. But it was full of promise, for the present and of the future...of what was to come, and it was a sound that would never fail to bring a smile to her face. 

Shifting his grip on her, he hiked her up in his arms so that she could wrap her legs around his waist as he reached for the door handle next to them. She could see the stone fireplace just inside, could practically feel the inviting warmth soaking into her skin. All that soft, comfortable furniture...blankets and rugs...

She was thoroughly exhausted, but they'd lost so much time...she didn't want to miss a second of it. 

" _Nulisut tu, Moqhoit._ "

 _"Nu'ir tu,"_ he responded.  _"Xisad..."_

Always...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sith language translations -  
>  _Tu'ak._  - You are free.  
>  _Veleja'ti._  - My soul.  
>  _Sua'ut nu tu'iea._  - I am yours.  
>  _Nulisja'ti, hyalut tu._  - My Love, I crave you.  
>  _Sefazoksh nun, wo’mielis ja’ti._  - Marry me, my darling one.  
>  _Nulisut tu._  - I love you.  
>  _Nu'ir tu._  - And I you.  
>  _Xisad._  - Always.  
> Please note that the Sith language is a tough nut to crack. From what I've been able to find, it's incomplete and there are numerous grammatical intricacies..and I most likely butchered the hell out of it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Petrichor - The smell produced when rain falls on dry ground, usually experienced as being pleasant.
> 
> "Petrichor"  
> Koven  
> It's all too much, It's all too much  
> The rain the rain the rain the rain the rain stops
> 
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors.  
> This author invites:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> Constructive criticism  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.


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